Untitled
by XeroKitty
Summary: Brief rambles and drabbles from no specific character perspective. All encounters are between Naruto and Sasuke, however. YOU get to choose who's saying what.
1. Untitled

An orange sun-sphere twirls imperceptibly

In the blue-jay feather blanket of the sky

And clocks the hours of the day's passing

While it's smiling warmth loves the earth.

But when its solitude turns to deep loneliness

Rain splish-falls noisily against the street

And lets the orange light play hide and seek

Tucking itself behind cream-thick clouds.

It never wants the happy games to cease

So the pearl-moon chases down its brother

The sun gives up to run beneath the horizon

Because it is afraid of the onyx-black night.

Now starlight dances along the moon's skirts

And sparkles like the marbles of angel's eyes

All night long until finally the sleepy moon

Goes to bed and takes its black blanket too

So the sun can rise again and cartwheel

In the never-ending embrace of heaven.


	2. Hungry Eyes

I – Hungry Eyes

He stares. I shift. His eyes are piercing and they always make me uncomfortable. I guess not in a bad way, but it's like he's staring into my soul and reading my deepest, darkest, most-desperate thoughts. Anyone could become uncomfortable under such a gaze.

"What?" I finally ask, afraid that if I wait a second longer, I'll throw something at him.

"Am I making you nervous?" he answers, a smile tugging at his lips. I scowl.

"Yes," I am direct: "you are."

"Well, I'm sorry. I won't look anymore," he says, but I know that is a lie—there he is, looking again, like that conversation didn't just happen. My anxiousness grows.

"You're still looking." I state the obvious.

"I know," he shrugs, "can't help it."

"Am I that fascinating?" I retort.

"In a way." And suddenly he's in front of me, his deep eyes screwed hard and tight on mine. His stare is boring into me and I can't help but squirm. His intense energy claws at my personal space, invading it, tearing it aside like paper. "You are amazing," he continues and I can't suppress the red-hot blush that flourishes up my neck and blossoms on my cheeks. The warmth makes me annoyed. "You are astounding." He's not stopping. "I am in love with you."

"I know that," I say and try to turn my head away. His strong fingers catch my chin and keep my face aligned with his. My whole body is crawling with discomfort. _So intense…_

"Do you love me?" he asks.

"Of course," I answer, now feeling ashamed.

"Say it, please?"

"I love you."

"Now you're just saying it to get me to leave you be." He rises and the interlocked stares snap like a strip of weak wood. I bite my lip. He's angry now. Upset. Something. I sigh.

"You asked me to say it and I did," I touched his hand softly. "Don't get upset."

"So then, do you love me?" he doesn't look at me again.

"I don't know how to answer that," I frown. "If I say 'yes', then I don't care enough and if I say 'I love you', then I don't really mean it."

Silence. And then…

"Do you know why I was staring at you?" he asks.

"No," I answer. I think for a moment, then add: "It was a bit uncomfortable, though."

He turns back to me and I quiver under the returned intensity. He leans his face into mine, until my vision can only clearly see his eyes, the whites around the irises, the flecks of random spectrum colors reflected from the sunlight pouring over us through the room's single, tiny window. "That's because…" he pauses, "I am looking at you with hungry eyes."

"Hungry eyes?" I can't say another word; I'm tightly under his spell.

"The eyes of one who wants something," he gives a careless half-smile. "So, you'd better get used to it."

"What…do you want from me?" I whisper; I still can't manage much else until his finger hooks into my shirt and tugs it down slowly, revealing the line of my neck, my collarbone, the faintly-scarred flesh. His finger brushes me. I suck in a surprised breath. He chuckles.

"What else could I want with a look like this?" he says as he leans down to kiss me. His eyes swallow me whole and all I can do is hold on to him as I begin to fall victim to his hunger.


	3. Truth

II – Truth

"It's your turn," I gesture at him. "And it'd better not be lame, like your last one."

He wrinkles his nose, as if anything he would ever say could be anything close to lame. "You pick this time," he frowns, trying to think of something. "I'm all out of ideas."

"That's not how the game works," I remind him.

"Oh, come on," he waves his hand in a 'yeah-yeah' gesture. "What do you want to know?"

"Hmm…" I can think of a few things I can try to pry out of him. Although, there is one thing specifically that I'd like to know: "Have you ever kissed anyone before?" He opens his mouth, looking annoyed and I cut him off because I know what he was going to say. "Not that first one in the classroom, dummy. A _real_ kiss, like with tongue and spit and _passion_."

He wrinkles his nose again. "If I remember correctly, there was some spit-swapping in that one…"

"Just answer the damned question!" I snap.

He rolls his eyes back, recalling, recollecting. "Guy or girl?"

"You mean you've kissed both?" I ask, a little surprised.

"Have you?" he frowns at me.

"Your turn to answer, not mine," I grin triumphantly. He grunts.

"Yeah, I've kissed a guy before…" he glares at me, "_besides_ you…"

"Who?" I ask.

"Which? Guy or girl?"

"You're not gonna tell me both of them?"

"Why should I?"

"Oh, come on!"

"The girl was a client for a mission I'd gone on for three weeks," he shrugged. "She was kinda pretty. She asked me to kiss her, so I did."

"You have _no_ shame!" I laugh. He frowns again.

"So who was it _you_ kissed?" he snaps back.

"You didn't finish," I remind again. "The guy. Who was it?"

He sighs. "You're such an asshole." He rolls his eyes. "If I tell you, I get to ask you the next question."

"Deal. Who?"

"…Neji."

I'm out of my chair. "With tongue!" I screech in glee.

"It was a dare at some stupid after-mission party," he does not look happy.

"_With _tongue?"I emphasize.

"Shut up, please," he groans, putting his face in his hand like he wants to disappear.

"With _tongue?_" I'm not even sure I want to know now.

"Yes, dammit!" he sighs in aggravation. "Tongue, spit, the whole works!"

I sit back in my chair, just thinking about this for a second. "Huh," I finally say. "With Neji."

"Yeah," he glowers.

"He's pretty good-looking though, huh?" I tease.

"I hate you," he groans a second time.

"So now it's my turn, right?" I ask, chuckling to myself. "Let's see. I kissed—"

"That's not my question."

I stop and look at him. He's red-faced and ashamed, but there's a hint of vengeance in his eyes. I suddenly swallow hard; maybe I shouldn't have made fun of him like that…

"Then…what's the question?" I ask, feigning apathy but my stomach has started to clench and do some flip-flops. _Blackmail material is coming, I can feel it…_

"Right now, in this village," he smirks, which promises the question will be good (for him, anyways), "who would you walk up to and kiss? Without reservations, without penalties. Married, single, guy, girl, old, young." The evil smile surfaces. "Who would you pin down and kiss in front of everyone?"

"Not answering," I cross my arms.

"Those are the rules," his eyes are dancing. He's enjoying this. "Truth: who would you kiss right this second?"

I hold my breath. I look at him. Sudden anger flares up and I just want to reach out and slap that shit-eating grin off his face. _Who does he think he _is"I…" The words catch in my throat—never in my life did I think I'd fall into this kind of predicament! _Damned if you do, damned if you don't._ There is a third option, though: I could get up and walk away. But, seeing as he answered something really embarrassing, I'd feel like an ass if I didn't somehow return the gesture. It's like he trusted me with that uncomfortable piece of him, and I'm just throwing it back in his face. I could never do that. I let out my breath and take in another one, staring at him, studying him. He's looking back, and the smile is slowly fading from his lips. I _must_ look pissed. I open my mouth. Close it. Clear my throat. Swallow. I try again.

"Anyone at all?" I breathe slowly, trying to calm myself, my heart, it's racing uncontrollably.

"Yeah," he says but that's all. He feels the electricity in the air, the seriousness.

_He knows,_ I think briefly before closing my eyes and leaning forward. I can hear his shallow breathing over the pounding of my heart. I can hear the clicks his suddenly-dry throat as he tries to say something but ends up swallowing back his words. Warm breath washes over my chin, my lips. I part my mouth slightly. My tongue finds his lips. My heart stops.

"You," I murmur before I kiss him. With tongue, with spit, with _passion_.


	4. Pushing the Sky

III – Pushing the Sky

_KnockKnockKonck_

"Hey!"

_KnockKnockKnockKnockBANGBANGBANG_

"Don't break my _door!_" I yell at him from inside the house. I know he can't hear me but I do it anyway. I'm sleepy.

"Get UP, you lazyass!" he yells back as if he heard after all. "You can't spend the whole day in bed!"

_Says who?_ "Go away," I moan and pull the sheets up over my head. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he'll leave…

_ThumpCRACK_

"Oh, hell no," I growl and fling the covers off me just in time to see my lock snap in half and my door splint in two. "You shit! That was my DOOR!"

"Why are you so obsessed with your door this morning?" he moves into the house as if he owns it.

"Because you're _breaking it!_" I throw the nearest thing at him—the alarm clock. He merely ducks his head and it goes sailing into the hallway where it hits the floor with a noisy CRASH and I can feel more than see the pieces flying everywhere. _Dammit__, now I need a new alarm clock too._I glare at him: "This had better be good," I growl. "I mean, somebody has to be _dying _or something."

"Nothing elaborate like that," he shrugs. "Just get your clothes on and let's go."

"I swear, I'm going to _kill_ you…" I mumble, getting up and shuffling for the bathroom. I'm already up, so I may as well go with him and see what he wants.

A quick hygiene procedure and clothes-swap and we're out on the street. There's nobody around, nobody up. I look sideways at him, like I expected the answer to this crazy outing to be scrawled on the side of his face. He looks back at me.

"Yes?" he asks calmly. My god, I really do want to kill him.

"Can I ask you why in the hell you broke into my apartment at…" I try to count backwards and fail miserably. My internal clock is all out of whack.

"Five a.m.," he finishes, tucking his hands into his pockets. "And you'll find out soon enough."

My hands itch to reach around his throat and start squeezing, but I'm following nonetheless.

We cross the empty streets and enter the equally-empty training grounds. We pass the numbered clearings, the memorial, the forest's mouth, the lake's edge, and still he's walking on in silence. I want to ask him again why we're doing this, but he didn't answer the first time so he won't answer now and for now I just go along until he finally stops in the absolute middle of nowhere and turns to me with a grin.

"We're here," he says.

"Where is 'here'?" I ask.

"'here' is here," he answers. My fists clench.

"Why the hell did you drag me out of bed and all the way out here?" I bristle.

He shrugs again: "Because I wanted to."

With a frustrated cry I leap atop him and we begin to roll. **Kick, punch, grapple, shove, bite, claw, slap, pound ****pound****pound. **We get up. There's already dirt-streaked sweat rolling down both our faces. He's grinning, I'm scowling. We lunge at each other. **WHAP! **Fists meet palms and palms meet chests and chests meet knees and knees meet the floor and again we're grappling and wrestling and rolling and he's laughing and I'm pissed but I'm starting to enjoy myself but I'm not going to tell him that (I have an image to maintain, you know) and on and on we go, like a merry-go-round in an endless repetitive cycle.

He stops fighting back and I stop too because without him it's no longer fun and it's no longer fair. His hair is thick and tangled with sweat and dirt and just a hint of blood and mine's probably just the same. He turns from me and his face suddenly shines gold. I blink and turn my head toward the horizon.

The sun rises and the dawn breaks open like a golden yellow chick forcing its way out of a pearlescent-gray egg. The edges of the sky become engulfed in orange daylight-fire and the night hurries away from its burning fingers. Rays of it reach across the mountains and paint the barren land gold, like his face, and I look over at him—maybe to ask why he _really_ brought me here—but I'm stunned by the scene before me: he is surreal, his body tipped and tilted upward and glowing like an ascending god, his arms outstretched, his eyes closed, his skin drinking it all in. He shimmers, he becomes enveloped in energy and I'm helpless to stare at it all in breathless wonder. We stay that way for a brief second, for a still moment, for a fourth of an eternity and then he opens his shining eyes and turns them on me.

"Good morning," he smiles and my legs quiver. My whole body feels like jelly, my knees squeak like rusty hinges as they fold and I sink to the sun-drenched earth and just stare and stare and stare. "I wanted you to see it," he continues, turning back to the god-making sunrise, "so I went to get you pretty early. I know you get pissy in the morning and I really am sorry, but," he grins, "isn't this worth it?"

"Yes," I choke on the rest of my words. I am not allowed to talk here. This is the sun's realm, and I'm still in a world of dark and secret shadow, hiding from everyone. His brilliant fire has touched me, even here in my solitude, which—for now—feels distant and a thing of long-ago. I continue to stare.

Finally, as my eyes begin to feel as if they will be bleached white by the sun's intensity, my stomach growls and he looks at me apologetically. "Let's go back," he says. "I can get you something to eat."

"No," I shake my head just ever-so slightly. "Not yet." I don't want to leave this, leave you, your presence, your warmth, your light, your love. _Thank you._


	5. Another World

IV – Another World

He's watching the rain outside the window, his hand holding up his chin, his reflection staring back at him wetly, coldly. The look he wears is forlorn. Distant. Sometimes I wonder if he's from another world. One that is always basking in sunlight. He's always like this when the rain comes—like he'll never see the light of day again. I make a noise from behind him but I'm ignored in favor of the rain, which patters and drips and falls so steadily, looking fast and looking slow and looking like it will never end.

"Hey," I try. Anything to get him to stop looking so damn _sad._ "Want anything?"

He shakes his head in the tiniest of responses. At least he's still connected to this world, still answering me. I'd worry if I didn't even get that. Frowning, I turn away from him.

"Do you think the rain comes from another world?"

I turn to look at him again. He hasn't changed positions, he's still moping by the window, but I know it was his voice and no one else's. "What do you mean?" I asked, a little disturbed at how close the question had been to my previous thoughts. This time, I saw his mouth move as he spoke but his voice sounded like the rain: empty, hollow, stretching on for forever.

"The rain. It comes from the sky. From clouds and water vapor, but that's just the scientific theory, right?" he turns to me but only slightly; his eyes still watch the rain outside. "Where do you think it comes from?"

"I don't have to _think_ of where it comes from," I frown, puzzled by this strange talking. "I _know_ where it comes from, and so do you as you've just proven, so what's with the odd question?"

"Where do you _think_ it comes from?" he asked again. "Does it fall down from the sky or up from the ground?"

"I once heard someone say that it was the gods peeing on us," I said. I didn't mean to be funny—I really _had _heard someone say that—but I could tell he was not amused by the slight tick of the muscle in his jaw. I stayed quiet and waited.

"Someone once told me," he spoke so softly I almost couldn't hear him over the noise of the rain, "that it came from heaven, from all the angels that watched over us and cried in pity at our sad fates," he grimaced. "As shinobi."

I stood behind him, feeling as if he were waiting for me to say something. What could I say after that, though? I made an impatient noise in my throat. "Who told you that?" I asked—I could think of nothing else.

"Don't remember," he shrugged, still watching. "I just always think whenever it rains, 'how fitting'. Don't you think so?"

My frown deepened: "How so?"

He paused noticeably. "Blood," he finally answered. "The tears of the angels fall and clean the blood-stained paths of the ninja, blessing them."

"We don't need blessings," I said bluntly.

"But don't you think it's fitting?" he mumbled, returning his full attention to the rain again (which was definitely slowing this time). "Angels…" his voice continued to lower as he trailed off. "Their blessing…"

I took a deep breath. I sighed. I walked over to him and the window and placed my hand on his shoulder, tugging him away gently. He refused to come. I used my other hand to knock his from his chin and turned his face towards mine. The beginnings of a frown creased his brow and I knelt in front of him, holding his face in both of my hands so that I wouldn't lose him to the rain again.

"We're shinobi," I said. "We walk ankle-deep in a path of over-spilled blood. That is the way it always has been and that is the way it will always stay."

"Why so much blood…?" his eyes drifted toward the window. I clamped my hands down, kept him anchored there, with me.

"Because it's out of our hands and over our heads," I waved it away with a toss of my head. "Angels do not come here and they certainly do not watch." He nearly pouted. I plunged ahead, not knowing what I was thinking anymore but feeling that there was some sort of point: "Ninja kill to live. We accept missions that either directly or indirectly affect the lives of others. We were taught that from the beginning and it just can't be helped because that is the way of all living things." I sighed again. "No, angels aren't here, but _I'm_ here, and _we're_ here _together_, so, isn't that enough for now? For ever?" He blinked, and I distantly realized that the rain had finally stopped sometime between before and now.

He looked at me. He smiled suddenly. I thought he was beautiful in that instant.

"Yeah," he kissed my lips tenderly. "It's enough."


	6. All Around Me

V – All Around Me

(Lyrics copyright Flyleaf)

_**My hands are searching for you**_

_**My arms are outstretched towards you**_

_**I feel you on my fingertips**_

_**My tongue dances behind my lips for you**_

He is beautiful. I reach for him with trembling fingers and they shyly brush against one of his reddened cheeks.

"What...?" he mumbles, turning his eyes away from me. I feel the heat from his cheeks on the palm of my hand.

"I love you," I say. His lips twitch in a soft smile.

"I know that," he replies gently.

_**This fire rising through my being**_

_**Burning I'm not used to seeing you**_

_**I'm alive, I'm alive**_

The bedsprings creak. He turns to me, within my arms. He's so thin, so frail, but just to look at him, you would never be led to think that way.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy to be alive?"

I blink. _What an odd question..._ "I suppose," I shrug in response. "Why do you ask?"

He turns away, and I can hear the difference in his voice: "No reason."

_**I can feel you all around me**_

_**Thickening the air I'm breathing**_

_**Holding on to what I'm feeling**_

_**Savoring this heart that's healing**_

There was something. Frowning to myself, I puzzle over his question: _Are you happy to be alive?_ Well, I can't complain. My life didn't take the path I wanted it to, but I'm breathing, I'm with friends, I'm living together with the person I love; to me, everything's okay. I look at his back. His shoulderblades jut out like small, bony wings. _So frail..._

_**My hands float up above me**_

_**And you whisper you love me**_

_**And I begin to fade**_

_**Into our secret place**_

I touch the skin of his back, I feel him flinch beneath my touch. I've unconsciously hurt him. How have I come this far with you? That I can read your every thought, your every movement, glance, touch, word? It's like we are one being split into two bodies, and our attraction is the need for two halves to become whole. The power between us is so strong. So then, why are you mad? Is that what you wanted to hear? That you make me feel alive?

_**The music makes me sway**_

_**The angels singing say we are alone with you**_

_**I am alone and they are too with you**_

You complete me. We are two halves of a whole. Where you end, I begin. Without your love, there is no life for me. Without you, there is no me.

_**I'm alive, I'm alive**_

I roll him back over. He stares at me with dull eyes. Unfeeling eyes. I wince on the inside.

"Why can't you just ask me things directly?" I scowl at him.

He pouts, frowns, tries to turn away. "I did."

"No, you didn't," I pin his shoulders down so he can't run away from me. "Why can't you just ask me if I love you?"

_**I can feel you all around me**_

_**Thickening the air I'm breathing**_

_**Holding on to what I'm feeling**_

_**Savoring this heart that's healing**_

"My hands always search for you. I'm always reaching for you. My tongue wants to say it loves you until it falls off."

He blinks. I plunge ahead.

"You make this fire in me burn hot and bright, letting me know that I'm alive, with you. I want to feel you all around me, breathe you in, hold you close, and savor every minute of every second of every single day that I am with you."

_**And so I cry**_

_**The light is white**_

_**And I see you**_

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" I ask him.

_**I'm alive, I'm alive, **__**I'm**__** alive**_

There are tears rising in his eyes. He tries to lift his hands to cover his face and I don't let him. Instead, I lean down and kiss them away. The bittersweet drops wet my lips and I taste another essence of him. I lower my forehead against his neck, hold him close, and breathe.

_**I can feel you all around me**_

_**Thickening the air I'm breathing**_

_**Holding on to what I'm feeling**_

_**Savoring this heart that's healing**_

"Idiot..." he whispers.

"Yeah," my voice is muffled by his skin and the pillows. Slowly, gently, his arms come around my back and draw me tighter against him. Our bodies fit seamlessly, smoothly together.

_**Take my hand**_

_**I give it to you**_

_**Now you own**__** me**_

_**All I am**_

_**You said you would never leave me**_

_**I believe you**_

_**I believe**_

"Thank you," he says, and I feel it from the vibrations in his chest more than I can hear his words.

"Let me ask you, then," I turn my head so I can brush my lips against his cheek. "Are you happy to be alive?"

There is a pause. Then his arms tighten and I am crushed to him, robbed of breath. His embrace is powerful, weakening, comforting, loving. How can so much emotion fit into such a small container?

"Yes," he says softly. "I'm happy to be by your side."

_**I can feel you all around me**_

_**Thickening the air I'm breathing**_

_**Holding on to what I'm feeling**_

_**Savoring this heart that's healed**_


End file.
